


The Story in my Head

by Willibald



Category: PRATCHETT Terry - Works
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willibald/pseuds/Willibald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was in tears when I came from work the other morning.  I had been considering a sketch that I would like to try to do.  As I thought the image in my head grew far beyond my meagre artistic abilities and as the details in the picture became clearer so the tears started.</p>
<p>As I said, I cannot draw the picture, words are my medium not lines and colours, so I will try to describe it as best I can.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Story in my Head

**Author's Note:**

> I was in tears when I came from work the other morning. I had been considering a sketch that I would like to try to do. As I thought the image in my head grew far beyond my meagre artistic abilities and as the details in the picture became clearer so the tears started.
> 
> As I said, I cannot draw the picture, words are my medium not lines and colours, so I will try to describe it as best I can.

A large group of people line a road leading to a pair of gates in a hedge. The common folk rub shoulders with the rich and famous, all united by a common loss. Within this crowd there are noticeable smaller groups.

At the front, nearest the gates are the men, women and others of the Watch standing to attention, helmets in hand, in quiet salute. Even Nobby stands as straight, if not as tall as Carrot and while his uniform is not quite as clean he has made the effort to polish his armour. Colon, Angua, Cherry and Reg complete the front row with the rest of the Watch in ranks behind them, for no-one would be forbidden to be here today and besides all the criminals are here as well and none of them have a mind to do anything but remember the one they are here to honour. At the back of the Watch stands Detritus, comforting Ruby who dabs a cloth to her eyes, wiping away tears of bright mercury. It's just possible that there is a damp metallic gleam to his eyes too.

Apart from Watch but near enough to be recognisably a part Sam Vimes stands with his wife and son. He is in his finest dress uniform as befits the Duke of Ankh, for once he does not complain about it. Lady Sybil wears black and has a small, but very well behaved dragon perched on her shoulder. Young Sam tugs on his father's hand who then lifts him to sit o his own shoulders for a better view.

Beside them stands Vetinari not clothed in his usual grey but in brighter but still subdued hues. As such he is almost invisible amid the throng which is as it should be fro he's not the important one today.

Similarly, Moist has left his golden suit in favour of a plain grey one and stands with his wife surrounded by postal workers, railwaymen, bankers, clacksmen, goblins and some of the smaller golems.

The Faculty of the Unseen University stand, man and ape, pointy hats doffed, heads bowed in silent contemplation. Even the Bursar is calm and still. Rincewind has somehow been pushed to the front of the group, perhaps in a place of honour, perhaps as a shield, just in case. The librarian stands next to him gently holding not a magical tome but a simple story book in his hands. The word "Carpet" can just be made out on its cover.

Besides them but nobody in their right mind would ever suggest that they were with them are the Witches. Three are at the kerb's edge with perhaps the best view of the whole assembly. Gytha sits in a folding chair that her son set up for her before the crowd arrived. She is flanked by Esme and Tiffany, Agnes having taken a place in the row behind. None have doffed their pointy hats but respect flows out from them all just the same. They have been joined by Magrat, in her royal finery who has left her husband with the other visiting dignitaries and Heads of States because some times the family you need to be with is not the one you were born or married into. Every now and then Esme's hand brushes against that of Mustrum Ridcully and once in a while his hand will brush against hers and thus they gain comfort from things that were not and could never be in this time of sorrow. At Tiffany's feet a group of small blue men stand unnaturally still watching the road while keeping a wary eye on the one eyed cat pretending to be asleep on Nanny's lap.

Further along another cat is having a quiet conversation with a small scruffy dog and a scrawny white rat. Occasionally someone will notice them but since they only say things like "Woof" of "Squeak" they are obviously just animals caught up in the same natural truce that extends over all gathered here.

Meanwhile King Vernice II of Lancre has joined with Lady Margolotta, Ptraci of Djelibeybi, Susan Sto Helit and other notables at the back of the crowd. Like Vetinari, they all know that they are not the important ones today. In a move mirroring Commander Vimes, the Diamond King of the trolls has lifted the Low Queen of the dwarfs onto his shoulders and all watch in silence.

For the first and probably only time in his life Dibbler is not trying to work this the largest ever of crowds. He stands a little aside from his fellow merchants resting on his empty tray as if it were a walking stick. Around him a group of beggars wait to feast on that tray's former contents that Mr Dibbler so uncharacteristically passed among them. Like the rest of the crowd they stand in silence (although Foul Old Ron was heard to mutter "Damn embuggeration, millennium hand and shrimp." under his breath. Those amongst them with hats have doffed them, the Duck Man has doffed his duck.

Then there are the others, not from these parts. In the sky, a new star or planet can be seen. It almost seems to be watching the proceedings. Back by the road stand four children with a small dog, watched over by two impeccably dressed men who might just be something more. Another group of slightly older children. A dark skinned teen and a pale skinned girl. A multitude of tiny figures perched on a JCB for better view. A man in hikers gear stood with a Buddhist monk who doesn't look quite human...

And then along the road comes that which they have all come to see. A simple coffin with an old black hat on its lid. It is propelled by hundreds of tiny legs all marching slowly in perfect step, except one. 

One is missing from the assembly, but he has already paid his respects and, sadly, always has more work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> They say a picture is worth a thousand words. That was a thousand words but it doesn't come close to the image in my head. Goodbye Sir Pterry - we will treasure all that you left.


End file.
